


Along the way

by valeria_02



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode 183 Related, M/M, Relationships are messy ok, Season/Series 05, Spoilers for episode 183, overuse of italics and dashes i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27053422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valeria_02/pseuds/valeria_02
Summary: On the road to Martin's domain, he asks Jon for a glimpse on what's going on in there. Jon complies, but he can't stop talking, and it leads to a conversation he'd been avoiding for a long time.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 10
Kudos: 90





	Along the way

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you think I should change the rating or add a tag, I'm still getting used to posting!

The road to Martin’s domain was both longer and shorter than expected. 

It was longer in the sense that their recurring encounters with Helen seemed to go on for years and years, and the only thing they could be sure about was that the Panopticon, a looming tower so far off in the distance it seemed to be surrounded by mist, was getting ever so slightly closer. Jon knew it was getting closer. They’d walked in an almost straight line to get there, so logically it must’ve been closer. Then again, things like time and distance didn’t work like they used to, but he Knew it. Was sure enough. _He_ _was_ , _Martin_ , _they were getting there_.

But it was also shorter. Even if the supernatural knowledge hadn’t been enough to convince him, Jon could feel it in his bones. Normally, the need to make a statement wouldn’t become unbearable until they'd walked for a while in the domain they were visiting, but this time it was different. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint the reason why; he Knew it had something to do with his relationship with Martin, but it was difficult to see beyond that. It was, quite frankly, giving him a headache. 

Judging by the concerned look Martin directed his way, he wasn’t hiding it as well as he’d thought. 

“It’s just that… We’re almost there,” Jon said, unprompted. He shut his mouth with a clicking sound. Martin nodded, and continued walking in silence.

Despite his best efforts, Jon hadn't been able to keep himself from peering into the domain. The temptation to Know was too much, and what he’d Seen– He knew Martin would hate it. It was somewhat of a relief that he wouldn’t be able to see the people there, because it’d be too much of a burden for him, and he already felt bad about not being able to help. 

He’d been feeling the pressure building up in his chest ever since they’d gone past the crossroads, and that had been both a long and a short time ago. Jon was trying to avoid opening his mouth because he was sure that something would come out before he could avoid it, but it was a difficult thing to do when he could feel his entire body trembling with nervous energy. But he knew his priorities, and he would not, under any circumstances, hurt Martin. Not even by delivering unwanted knowledge, because he knew how harmful that could really be to one’s mind. He wouldn’t.

“Jon?”

Jon looked at Martin. “Yes?”

It was hard to avoid talking when the man he loved kept talking to him.

“Do you think they–” Martin stopped. He swallowed and shook his head. "Nothing."

"What is it?" Jon asked, frowning.

"Nothing– I-it was dumb, forget it."

" _Martin._ "

Martin sighed and his shoulders slumped with the motion. There was a sadness in his eyes that made Jon's heart squeeze painfully. 

"It's just that…" he raised his head and fixed his gaze forward. "I wondered. Do you- do you think they're suffering a lot? It's– Maybe it's not as bad as other domains, right? I _know_ that feeling like you don't exist can't be good, I've been there, but- but _maybe_ …"

Jon felt an involuntary grimace appear on his face. Martin wasn't able to see it right away, which gave him enough time to duck his head and think about his answer.

Martin took his silence as an invitation to keep talking. "I mean, there are truly awful things out here. Like, remember the Flesh domain? The one with the garden and- and Jared! That was absolutely horrible. I don't think I'll ever forget what some of those people looked like, so maybe being forgotten or looked over… Maybe it's… Not as disgustingly horrible?"

"I…" Jon paused, wondering how he should word his thoughts. In the end, he just sighed, and resigned himself to deliver some bad news. "I don't think it's any better for them, Martin. I mean, you've seen how awful the Lonely can be with your own eyes, and they… They don't even know that they haven't always lived that way. They can't remember."

"Ah," Martin said, taking a deep breath. "I-I think I knew that. Somehow. It's just that I…"

"You hoped," he said. 

"Yeah, I hoped."

The lull in their conversation allowed Jon to hear a distant scream of terror. He flinched. Without meaning to, the door in his mind opened once again, and he reached for it– The scream belonged to a woman. A terrified one, at that. He kept Looking, and the more time passed, the worse the knowledge became. Well, not worse, he supposed. It didn't feel awful to him, it'd been too long since an unknown person's fear had made him feel bad. He could empathize, but it wasn't the same.

The pressure on his chest doubled. If he could let it all out in a statement… But no, now wasn't the time. There wasn’t a place for Martin to go to in a long distance, and even if there was, he wasn't sure he wanted him to be alone right now. But the scream– he could still hear it, an endless loop inside his mind. 

"What is it?" Martin asked, laying a soft hand on his arm. Jon startled, but after the touch registered in his mind, his whole body relaxed. 

"It's– You don't want to know," he said, shaking his head. 

Martin paused his steps before humming. "Maybe… Just this once."

Jon whipped his head around. "Really?"

"Yeah, but just a little bit. Not like- Not like a whole statement about it, but a vague description…?" His voice went a bit higher at the end, the hesitance clear. 

"Okay," Jon nodded slowly. It took a lot of effort to swallow the bunch of words he wanted to blurt out, but he steeled himself and squared his shoulders. "Okay, then. It's– You did hear the scream, didn't you?"

"Yeah, it was kind of hard not to," Martin chuckled, a tiny sound that seemed to surprise even him. 

Jon smiled. He could hear the familiar static rising around him. "Yeah, right. Well, it's a woman. She's barely thirty." He opened and closed his mouth, holding back the other part of him, the monster, as he'd taken to calling it, from taking over his words. "She's so young and yet– she feels like her whole life has been wasted away. She's never done something worthwhile, or she doesn't think she has, since no one seems to notice. The one thing she's always known is this: she is utterly unimportant. Other people can’t even seem to remember her name, no matter how many times they’ve met, not even her mother. There’s another thing she knows. She _knows_ her mother forgets _,_ because even when she denies it, sometimes, when they talk, there's just the barest hesitation in her voice before she says her name, like it takes her a second _too_ long to remember her daughter's name– And really, what kind of mother _does_ that? If her own mother, someone who knows her thoroughly and completely, doesn't deem her important enough to remember her name, then, really, what can she expect from everyone else?"

Martin's hand squeezed his arm gently. "O-okay, I think that's enough now. That sounds awful," he said, the barest hint of a tremor in his voice. 

It did sound awful. And Jon Knew it was even worse than that, it was a horrible, isolating feeling, and at the same time she felt too seen and exposed, but– But Martin had asked him to stop. So, he’d stopped.

Or rather, he’d tried to. He really had. When his mouth kept moving despite his initial intention to shut it, Jon found himself feeling really confused. And then surprised. And then horrified. 

"The woman stares at her phone screen. She's looking at her home page, filled with her friends' smiling faces and thoughtful posts. Brandy's photo has 80 hearts on it. It figures, she's always been popular. It was posted three days ago. Next, Jonathan's video. It was impossible to make out any shapes on it at all, it looked like it was filmed with a finger on the camera itself, and yet– 120 hearts. It was barely a day old. Her stomach churns and her hands get clammy. Stacy’s meme has 50 comments on it. The woman had commented too, but no one had interacted with her comment. Now that she thinks about it, none of her posts do. Her selfie doesn't have any hearts. She’s just being paranoid, really, it’s not like her friends couldn't see what she posted, they were all following her back. Maybe it had been just too long, and her posts got lost amongst everyone else’s. Or at least she thought so."

"Jon, _stop_ ," Martin said, harshly. The hand on his arm got the slightest bit tighter. 

Jon shut his mouth in an attempt to stop talking, but soon enough it had opened on its own accord yet again, and the static around him hadn't stopped buzzing for even a moment. He coughed, but the pressure in his chest climbed to his throat, and it begged to be released. 

"On her profile, the numbers stare at her. Zero followers. 2150 following. How can that be? How can her profile be so– so _uninviting_ that not even _bots_ would want to follow her? Maybe it's her profile picture; she never quite figured out how to take a good one. Or… It's probably her username. _THE_WOMAN_ , it reads. That's ridiculous. Her name isn't The Woman. That's probably the reason why none of her friends followed her back, they don't know it's her because of her username."

"I don't want to keep hearing it! Jon, please stop!" Martin begged, having stopped his walk completely by now. His hand had left Jon's arm, and now he was using both of them to cover his ears in a desperate attempt to not listen to his terrible, terrible words. 

The static only got louder. Jon's eyes became unfocused. He could feel himself slipping into that trance, and he fought it, but his efforts weren't enough– they never were. 

"It's just a matter of changing it, then. She clicks on the button that allows her to edit her details, and just after she's deleted the old one, she begins to tap her new username. But she stops. That can't be right. Brandy's not her name, she can't just take her friend's username. She stares at her phone screen. The cursor blinks at her mockingly, reminding her that she can't do anything right, ever. She keeps staring. That– No. No, no, no. Her name. It's just on the tip of her tongue. Her name. She can't forget. She's the only one who always remembers, if she forgets… She can't. But that's just it, isn’t it. She's already forgotten. She's forgotten her own damn–"

The static suddenly stopped, as Martin's hand slapped across his face. Jon blinked twice, thrice, and turned to look at him. The confusion on his face must've been evident, because Martin began rambling about how he would not _shut up_ and he was _in a trance, Jon, it was scary_ , but Jon couldn't be bothered to listen to that because the static had stopped. Around them there was nothing but blessed silence. Once again, Martin had stopped one of Jon's Eye-induced trances by slapping him. He would've never thought the method to be so efficient and yet…

"It's alright, Martin," he said, taking one of his hands in his. "I get it. I couldn't stop and you couldn't get away."

Martin's hand trembled. He was looking directly into Jon's eyes, searching for the trace of a lie, an indication that things weren't, in fact, alright, but Jon knew he wouldn't find any. 

"I'm so sorry," he said, even if it wasn't necessary. 

Jon huffed. "If you're apologizing, then I'm sorry too. I'm more sorry, in fact, because it was my fault to begin with."

"Oh, was it?" Martin chuckled. His shoulders had slumped again, making him look as relaxed as he ever got walking around the apocalypse. "I think I'm more sorry because…"

Technically, Jon should've seen that coming. Well, no, actually, that wasn't true. He couldn't have seen that coming, because he'd promised he wouldn't Look into Martin, and he trusted him, and there was no way he'd take that for granted. Still, when Martin's big hand raised in the direction of his face, he couldn't help but think about the stinging he currently felt on his cheek. And how it'd stinged all those times he'd had to slap him to get him out of the trance.

And he flinched. A full-body flinch at that, with his hands releasing whatever it was that they'd been holding and rushing to cover his face. He stayed that way for two full seconds before the actions made sense in his mind, and by then he'd straightened his back immediately and shoved his hands in front of him to… He didn’t know. Appear normal, maybe. 

Jon didn't want to risk a glance at Martin's face, but as the seconds went by, the situation felt that much worse. It was clear that Martin wouldn't be the one to say something first. He raised his head slowly, hesitantly, and met Martin's eyes. 

The sight made something heavy churn inside him.

Martin was looking at him with an awful mix of feelings. He was usually an open book, except for the time he'd served the Lonely, when it'd been hard to catch a glimpse of anything besides subtle annoyance on his face. Now, Jon found himself staring into many emotions he couldn't make sense of. There was something– pain, most likely. Hurt. He was hurt. He was also surprised, but in a bad way, like he'd been expecting cake at his birthday but had instead arrived home to find brussels sprouts or something. Above it all, however, there was regret. Guilt. Both of those emotions, just overflowing his face. 

Jon glanced down, and found Martin's hands tightly fisted at his sides. He tried to take one of them, but Martin took a quick step backwards. He tried not to let the hurt he felt show, but he knew he must've failed anyway. 

"Jon?" Martin asked, voice shaking and watery. 

He hummed and lowered his eyes. 

"Is– Are you alright?"

He blinked. "Of course I am," he replied. Took a step forward. "Why wouldn't I be?"

That appeared to be the wrong thing to say. Martin's face turned slightly red, and his eyebrows furrowed deeply.

"What– You– What do you _mean_ 'why wouldn't I be'?" he asked, straining to keep his voice at a reasonable level. He ran a hand through his greying hair. "You just… Are we in different realities right now? You just flinched _so hard_. I- I didn't know it was that bad. I thought the slaps were normal, I mean, not normal, but not so... It doesn't matter now, I suppose. It really doesn't. What's done is done, and I already–"

For a second, the only thing that could be heard between them was the sound of Martin's ragged breathing. Jon thought he must’ve been working himself up into a proper state, but given his previous reaction, now would not be a good time to offer a hug. 

It wasn't like he didn't get why Martin was so upset, anyway. If it had been him, he'd be even worse, but it wasn't, and he knew he wasn't really scared of Martin hurting him. It was just muscle memory. His body remembered being subject to a slap, a slap that had hurt slightly, and it didn't want to be slapped again. As simple as that. Logically, he knew that Martin wouldn't hit him if he'd had any other options. He did. It was hard to bring him out of an Eye-induced trance, and he didn't hold it against him.

"Don't give me that look, Jonathan Sims," Martin said, crossing his arms. Jon raised his hands in surrender, but before he could talk, Martin kept going, "like you don't understand why I'm so upset because– _Jon_ ," the way he said his name was almost a whisper; Jon was compelled to listen as closely as he could. "You thought I was going to hit you. That I was going to slap you again, I– That's… That's just so messed up."

"Well, it's not like it was my fault," Jon grumbled, staring at the ground. "Not saying it was yours, either, but I couldn't help it. It didn't have as much to do with you as it did with me and my reflexes–"

"I _am_ saying that," he interrupted him. Jon frowned. _What?_ "It’s my fault. I was the one slapping you for the statements–"

"But that's just _different_ , Martin, there's no other way to stop them– stop me–"

"It's not so different, though, because it ended up in this!" Martin exclaimed, signalling around them with both of his hands. "It still made you afraid on a subconscious level, or it was just muscle memory, or however you want to rationalize it. It still made you think I was going to hurt you!"

"Well, I'm sorry I couldn't control it like the other times!"

Time stopped.

Or at least, it seemed like it had. Jon swallowed around the lump that had lodged itself in his throat and risked a look at Martin's face. 

His eyes were the worst part. They were red-rimmed and focused only on him, like everything else was just background noise to their own private scene. He felt the momentary need to lay a hand on his cheek and stroke it, but he didn't know how well that would go, given… He sighed. 

"Other times?" Martin choked out.

Jon kicked some invisible rocks with his shoe. "Barely twice more. I think one was in Upton House, I think I can remember that. I just–" He sighed and scrubbed at his face with one hand. "I felt so embarrassed, because I knew, _I know_ that you wouldn't. It's just like my brain to make a big deal out of it, I'm really… I'm sorry, Martin. I am."

There was that silence again. Jon hadn't missed it. It was the kind of quiet that felt too full to be relaxing, and yet, it was quiet, so you couldn't focus on anything else. It was stifling. He wondered whether he should say anything else, but before he could think about it long enough, Martin spoke. 

"I'm so sorry, Jon."

"What?"

"I'm so sorry I didn't think about that," he said, his mouth twisted in a grimace. "Obviously being slapped repeatedly wouldn't _not_ be a big deal, even if it's because of the trances, especially if it's you– You've just. Being hit. It's not alright in any occasion. I'm so sorry. I didn't think that through, but- But I won't do it again. I'm really so sorry."

"Martin, what?" Jon knew he was staring, but he couldn't help it. Not when Martin looked so scared, so… So desperate. "No, Martin. It-It's okay! It really is. You don't have to–"

"I do have to! I need to!" 

He sighed. "Okay. Okay. If you need to, then alright. I forgive you, Martin. Honestly. And if you say you won't do it again, I believe you," he said, trying to infuse as much intention behind his words as he could so Martin would pick up on that. "And I also wanted to say I'm–"

Martin grunted loudly, and it stopped him in his tracks. "Oh, no, Jon. Don't even think about apologizing. You've nothing to apologize for. Don't– Don't argue with me!" Martin added, as soon as Jon had opened his mouth. "Think about it this way: if it had been me who flinched away, would you think I needed to apologize?"

He should've known Martin would make that point. Of course he would. "Well, no, but–"

"Exactly! No buts!" he said. His tone was too cheery for the conversation they'd just had, but it was probably just him trying to lighten up the mood. "No apologies accepted here. Well, except mine. But I had a good reason, because I've been really inconsiderate towards my boyfriend."

It wasn't often that they used that word, so it would only stand to reason that Jon hadn't really gotten used to hearing it yet. It was just that when you walked through the apocalypse, there weren't a lot of people you could talk to about your boyfriend. Well, Helen was there, sure, but he didn't make a habit of talking to her about Martin-related things. And if he didn't talk to her about it, and both of them knew what they were, what was the point in saying it when they didn't need to? Exactly. No point. Which was why Jon was now turning slightly red, and he knew that Martin would notice, and he knew that he'd be endeared by it. 

His boyfriend smiled a tiny thing. He opened his arms slowly, as if afraid of frightening him again, and asked, "Come here?"

Jon didn't need to think about it. "Of course," he said, as he wrapped his arms around his middle. 

Everything would be okay. At least for now, until they got to Martin's domain. They were fine. They were.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I'd love to hear what you think about this. It's something that's been on my mind for a while, and since I'd been thinking about how damn sad it makes me that TMA is a tragedy, I felt like I needed to let it out. I don't have a beta and I'm not a native speaker so I'd appreciate if you could point out any errors here (gently... i'm a baby...).   
> That's all!


End file.
